


Peanut Butter Problems

by BatFlirts



Series: Peanut Butter and Jam Sandwiches [1]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Clark Kent starts out as a bad dad and slowly gets better?, Gen, Kon-El | Conner Kent Needs a Hug, This is a repost, Whump, if you think i should add more tags please let me know in the comments, questionable, there were more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatFlirts/pseuds/BatFlirts
Summary: There are a few things Kon knows.First, his name is Kon.Second, his home is called The Watchtower.Third, Superman doesn't like him.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Conner Kent & Justice League, Conner Kent & Lois Lane
Series: Peanut Butter and Jam Sandwiches [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078724
Comments: 29
Kudos: 141





	1. Peanut Butter Problems

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of a fic I took down. Several people have asked to reread it again so I'm putting it back up. But please be nice in the comments.

There are a few things Kon knows.

First, his name is Kon.

Second, his home is called The Watchtower.

Third, Superman doesn't like him.

The other adults tolerate him well enough, but Superman looks at him like Kon is a stain on the underside of his shoe. Whenever Superman is in the room he tries extra hard not to be a bother, he stays in the corner and watches the big blue man from afar. It's weird though, because he always finds himself drawn to the man. Then sharp eyes will turn to him, so full of anger and disgust, and Kon will remember that Superman hates him.

Kon's very existence seems to be what Superman hates, not anything he's actually done.

At first he tried very hard to get Superman to like him. Kon figured that Superman just didn't know him yet and was very shy.

So Kon made a model out of the plasticine Green Lantern brought him one time. It was a model of Superman and Kon had been so proud of his efforts―it really was good, he'd thought. Kon had spent hours on it, sure that Superman would appreciate it.

The next time Superman had been at The Watchtower, Kon had tried to show him.

“It's you,” he'd said shyly. “I made you.”

Superman had not been impressed. Actually, at first he'd been shocked, then he'd gotten angrier than Kon had ever seen and started yelling. Kon had dropped his figurine in shock, immediately covering his ears as the tears rose to the surface. Then he ran to his room and when he'd felt brave enough to come out again, Superman was gone and someone had stepped on his plasticine creation, mashing half of it into the floor.

Kon hasn't tried to make anything for Superman since.

It is so strange, though.

Whenever Superman thinks Kon isn't in the room he is happy and relaxed, he chats with the other adults and even laughs. Kon doesn't think he's ever even seen Superman _smile_ at him, let alone laugh. It's difficult reconciling his own experience with Superman versus the one he sees on the television too―they have really good reception at The Watchtower. The Superman on TV always looks happy, he's always smiling and he looks soft and approachable.

Kon often wonders what it is about _him_ that Superman doesn't like. He stands in front of the mirror and scrutinizes his appearance. Kon is shorter than Superman―too short. His hair is too flat―Superman has that little curl at the front of his. Kon's jaw isn't perfectly square―Superman's jaw is.

Superman is perfect. Kon knows he won't ever compare. He's nothing. _Good for nothing._ Superman hates him and that's never going to change, he thinks.

~

Kon is teaching himself to read the day it happens. Robin had brought him a book for children―one his sister had used to learn to read, apparently. Kon's not very good at reading, but Wonder Woman helps him and teaches him things whenever she comes by. Which, granted, isn't very often, but he appreciates her efforts. The Watchtower can be a very lonely place a lot of the time. The adults don't come very often―unless they're on duty, in which case they ignore him anyway―and Kon is forbidden from going to Earth; the zeta tubes wouldn't take him there anyway, he'd tried.

Kon is on the couch in the common area reading a book about a red fish and a blue fish when he hears the zeta tube go off in the other room, too absorbed to acknowledge whichever adult has come to The Watchtower to switch duty places with The Flash.

The brief dip in the couch is all the warning he gets.

Immediately, Kon looks up and finds his gaze meeting that of Superman.

In the three months since Kon was brought to The Watchtower, not once has Superman ever willingly been in the same room as him. Superman has _definitely_ never sat on the same couch as him.

Kon snaps the book shut in a hurry and slides off the couch as quickly as he can, hastily mumbling out a quick apology before he runs for his room. He doesn't know what he's saying sorry for, but it feels right and he doesn't want Superman to start yelling at him.

The common room is supposed to be for everybody, that was what Batman told him, but Kon isn't _everybody_. The only space that _he's_ really allowed to be is in his room, the other adults just let him use the communal facilities because they don't mind him so much these days. Sometimes Aquaman even ruffles his hair and asks him how his week has been. Kon likes Aquaman. He's always nice to Kon and he never shouts and he sometimes brings seaweed snacks.

Superman doesn't follow him and Kon lets out a sigh of relief once the door to his room is firmly closed behind him.

~

The second time something happens, _all_ the adults are at The Watchtower. Kon knows this means something big is happening. They all go to the meeting room, which means it's serious. Kon isn't allowed in there at all.

Their expressions are grim when they all go in, one by one. Kon watches the procession from behind the corner of the lounge.

When they come out, things seem… better? Kon doesn't know what happened, but he didn't hear any shouting from the other side of the door to the meeting room and nobody is storming out of The Watchtower angrily, so whatever they talked about must have gone well.

Green Arrow is the first to notice him in his hiding spot.

“How are you going, kiddo?” he asks with a smile on his face, the somber expression disappearing at the sight of him. Kon marvels at how he can do that. Whenever Green Arrow sees him, his face lights up, even if the man is in a bad mood.

It goes without saying that he has the exact opposite affect on Superman.

“Good,” he says quietly, Superman still too nearby for his liking.

Green Arrow sits himself on the couch and ruffles Kon's hair, which Kon knows means Green Arrow is feeling talkative.

“Yeah?” Replies the older man, patting the couch. Kon climbs up obediently. “What did you get up to this week?”

Kon has to think.

“Um, Robin brought me _chocolate_ … oh, he said it was for something called _Halloween!_ Did you know that kids get to go from house to house asking people for free candy? I watched a Scooby Doo special on it after he left, but the gang didn't really get to trick-or-treat, they had to catch the bad guy who was trying to steal the deeds for the house from old Mrs. Cray. Scooby got Scooby-snacks though.”

Green Arrow's grin broadens. “You like chocolate?” He questions. “You got a favorite type?”

“I like the ones that taste like peanut butter,” he offers shyly, to which Green Arrow chuckles.

Except, before the older man can say anything more on the topic of different flavored chocolates, a deep and rumbling voice behind Kon sends a fearful shudder up his spine.

“Whenever Pa took me trick-or-treating, I used to like the peanut butter ones too,” says Superman thoughtfully. “Still do.”

Kon freezes immediately, not completely sure what to do with this information or even with himself. Very slowly he turns, counting among small miracles the fact that Superman isn't looking directly at him, but is instead staring into space whilst reminiscing.

_Is Superman going to steal all the chocolate Robin gave him?_

Kon doesn't know what possesses him when he speaks next. He _knows_ he isn't supposed to talk to Superman, it's a sure-fire way to get yelled at and Kon doesn't like it when Superman yells because it always makes him feel like the most evil villain on Earth. Superman's never shouted at anybody else, only Kon, which means Kon must truly be the worst thing the man has ever laid eyes on. Maybe Superman, who everyone tells him is the best of them all, sees something in Kon that the rest of the adults just don't yet. There must be something in him that makes him so bad. Kon wishes he could get it out so Superman would stop hating him, but right now he'd just settle for being able to keep the chocolate his friend Robin brought for him.

“Please,” Kon blurts, the words rushing out past his lips unchecked. “Don't take away my chocolate.”

Superman goes very still and Kon immediately realizes his mistake. Very quickly, he feels all the blood rush from his face and distantly hears the little squeak that jumps out his mouth.

Kon has ruined _everything!_ The other adults were starting to warm up to him before this. Now, Superman is going to shout at him and tell him off and they'll all realize what a bad person he is. They'll go back to tolerating him―or _worse_ , maybe they'll all start hating him like Superman already does. Regardless, they know now. They know that Kon is _selfish_. Superman has exposed him for what he really is.

Faster than The Flash could ever hope to be, he is off the couch and away from Green Arrow―who is frowning at him now, _oh no_. Kon wants to apologize, but the words keep getting stuck in his throat. Quickly he makes a mad dash for his room, ducking around Black Canary and ignoring the shout that comes vaguely from Green Arrow's direction.

Superman can have the rest of his candy, he decides. Kon just doesn't want _everybody_ to hate him.

After he reaches the safety of his room, Kon dives for the box of candy under his bed. There's not all that much left now, but he'd saved his favorite peanut butter flavored ones for last. It's a shame he's going to have to give them up.

It takes him a solid fifteen minutes to write and re-write his apology message to Superman before he's sure it's good enough.

Kon's handwriting is kind of messy, not at all like Robin's. Robin has really neat handwriting and Kon wishes for the first time that his could look even a little bit like that. He reads the message for the eighth time, scrutinizing it.

 _Superman,_ it reads in his scrawl.

_I am very sorry about what I said to you before. I did not mean to make you sad or mad with me. ~~I did not know you liked peanut butter chocolates the same as me.~~ There are lots of peanut butter chocolates left. ~~You can have them if you like.~~ They are for you. ~~Please do not take Green Arrow and Aquaman and~~ ~~I don't want anyone else to hate me~~ I am really very sorry._

_Kon._

He draws a little flying Superman in the corner of the paper and then thinks Superman probably wouldn't like that and scribbles it out.

When Kon comes out of his room again, The Watchtower is a ghost town. There's not even anyone on duty. It's just him. He leaves the note and the box of Halloween chocolates by the zeta-tube for Superman to find.

~

Kon overhears Wonder Woman shouting at somebody in the common room the next week.

The loud noise hurts his head. Yesterday Robin told him he had a cold and instructed that he should drink lots of water and stay in bed to rest.

Robin had brought him tissues and looked after him yesterday, but Robin isn't here now. It's just Kon and he feels very tired and just wants to sleep without the yelling.

“―need to talk to him, Clark!” Wonder Woman is shouting, gesticulating wildly.

Kon can see Green Arrow and Batman and Cyborg all there too, so he makes sure to stay in the shadow of his bedroom doorway as he listens.

“This has gone on long enough!”

In her hand, Kon can see his handwritten note meant for Superman and suddenly he knows who is being yelled at.

“How do you think it feels for _me,_ Diana?!” Superman shouts back and Kon has to resist the urge to cover his ears. “There's a clone of me wandering about and you all seem completely _fine_ with him, but most days I can barely stand to look at the thing!”

Kon isn't sure why each word feels like an individual dagger to the heart, he already knows what Superman thinks of him. Maybe it just feels worse to have it verbally confirmed.

“He's _afraid of you,_ Clark,” Batman's low growl reprimands. “It's painfully obvious the boy is scared you'll rob him of something precious. He doesn't have much as it is and you behaving like this is only making it all so much worse.”

“THAT _THING_ IS NOT A BOY!” Superman explodes. “It is an abomination and I should never have let you all talk me into bringing it back here!”

Kon feels numb.

Superman is right. Everyone always said Superman was the champion for truth and justice, Kon isn't a champion for anything. Kon doesn't even know if he's _real_. Robin said Kon was a person once, but Superman disagrees. Superman said Kon wasn't a boy, he was a thing. An abomination.

The shouting is still going on in the common room. Kon just wants it to stop.

No part of him feels real as he descends from his room. His skin tingles, in a distant kind of way.

Wonder Woman sees him first and she almost looks surprised to see him, as though she didn't already know Kon lived here. Green Arrow is the first to address him though.

“Kid!” he exclaims upon spying Kon, who is sticking to the wall just in case. Superman whirls around, but Kon doesn't meet his gaze, barely noticing how small he's tried to make himself by wrapping his arms around his chest.

Kon's soft voice comes out as something close to a whisper. “Can you please stop shouting?” He breathes. He doesn't really have a right to ask them for anything, but it's worth a shot. His chest feels heavy and hot.

Fully expecting Superman to come down on him all fire and fury, Kon brings his his hands up to his ears just in case and gets ready to run. With the other adults here he doesn't think Superman will hurt him, but he can't be too sure.

Batman moves while Kon's vision wobbles and suddenly he's standing by his side, removing a gauntlet to press his bare hand against Kon's forehead.

Kon just sniffs pathetically and clings to the other man's leathery cape.

“You have a fever,” Batman says and picks him up. He curls into Batman's side the way he's seen Robin do a thousand times before. It's nice. Batman's hand even comes up and rubs his back in a soothing manner. “You need rest.”

“Can't,” Kon sniffles quietly, just loud enough for the room to hear. “The yelling is too loud. It hurts my head.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kon can see Superman shifting uncomfortably. The man looks almost guilty, but Kon isn't sure why.

“How much water have you had today?” Batman fusses, smoothing down Kon's already flat hair.

“Some,” he replies. “Robin made sure I had some yesterday. I haven't refilled the bottles though.”

Batman quirks a little smile at him, but Kon feels that that smile is meant more for Robin than for him.

“I'll refill them for you,” the man says.

Kon sighs. “Thank you Mr. Batman,” he replies.

“ _Clark_ ,” the Batman suddenly barks. “Come with me.”

Superman, who has been looking oddly guilty this whole time, suddenly snaps to attention and reluctantly follows behind Batman and Kon. Superman manages to look more uncomfortable the closer they get to Kon's room and, truthfully, Kon's not sure he wants Superman in his room, but he's too exhausted to put up even a token protest.

Batman waltzes into Kon's room and deposits him in bed, stepping around the mess of actions figures Black Canary gave him littering the floor. The action figures are Kon's new favorite toys because they are of the Justice League. The Batman one is his favourite, even though Aquaman is his favorite in real life―he likes the material Batman's cape is made out of. The only one that sits on his shelf is Superman, (although Kon will secretly sometimes take him down and tell him things that he wouldn't _dare_ tell the real Superman. Like how someday he'd like to go to Earth and maybe go trick or treating, or that he'd like to see a dog in real life.)

Kon snuggles into the blankets as Batman tells Superman to fill up the empty water bottles scattered all over the place. Superman looks relieved at the idea that he gets to leave the room and moves as quickly as possible.

“I'm going to go get some medicine to bring your fever down, okay?” Says Batman, face slightly pinched. “I won't be a moment.”

Kon nods and Batman leaves his room as well.

It's just Kon, now.

He closes his eyes and then time passes, although he's not sure how much.

The door opens again and Kon wrests the lids of his eyes open expecting to see Batman.

It isn't.

Superman blinks at him, a water bottle in each hand, then puts them on the bedside table where Kon can easily reach them before turning on his heel again and heading back the other way without a word.

“Thank you,” Kon manages a wheeze toward the man's turned back.

Superman's step falters and he stops for a brief moment.

“You're welcome.” He says, and then, “I'm sorry."

Superman disappears out the door, leaving Kon as baffled as every by the inexplicable behavior.

* * *

Things start to change after that.

One day the zeta tube goes off, but no one comes through it. For a minute, Kon is confused, but then he sees a little plastic pumpkin filled with candy and he immediately thinks Robin has sent him some more candy. He must have heard about the incident with Superman.

There's a little note on top of the bright orange pumpkin and Kon sits on the floor eagerly to read it, still half eyeing what candies Robin sent him this time.

He flips open the little note.

 _Dear Kon,_ it reads in a handwriting that is distinctly not Robin's. Despite how beautiful Kon thinks Robin's handwriting is, it is chicken scratch in comparison to this.

_I wanted to apologize to you for the way I behaved the other day. The mission hadn't gone well and Wonder Woman was annoyed at me and I was upset and annoyed and you were just the easiest target to take it out on, I suppose. This is no excuse, I know, but I felt the need to convey my sincerest regret to you―you didn't deserve it. ~~Although you are my clone, you shouldn't have to~~ I know I've been a horrible person to you. When I became Superman I took an oath to protect the innocent, but when it comes to you I have failed so miserably. Not only have I not been there to protect, but I am the one who has made you suffer. You are afraid of me and I understand why._

_If you will permit me, I would like to try again. I want to get to know you, Kon._

_Think about it and let me know what you decide. In the meantime, these candies are for you. I made sure to include a whole packet of peanut butter chocolates._

_Sincerely,_

_Superman_

It takes him nearly half an hour to read the whole thing, and then another fifteen minutes to be sure he hasn't misread anything. Kon is slightly dumbfounded, but the smile that rises to touch his lips is real.

Superman wants to… to get to know him? Why? Kon isn't… he isn't…

Is this a trap?

After everything, Superman suddenly wants to become… what?

Kon frowns.

He doesn't dare think Superman wants to become his _friend_. No, no, no, _that_ will never happen. Kon still thinks the scariest thing to this day is the sound of Superman's booming voice. Sometimes, even when the other Kryptonian is laughing at something one of the other League members has said, Kon freezes.

Maybe Wonder Woman or Batman made Superman write this letter. Yes, that seems much more likely. They probably dictated what he had to write too. The letter is neat and there is only one line that has been crossed out, one that Kon's not sure he wanted to read the end of anyway. Batman probably bought the candy as well―Robin knows what he likes, after all.

Kon appreciates their trying, he does, but it won't matter in the end. It doesn't matter what they say to Superman, his opinion on Kon isn't likely to sway, not like this letter wants him to believe.

Still, the letter and the pumpkin basket filled with candy is the nicest thing he's ever received from Superman― _well, the only thing, actually_ ―so he folds the letter back up carefully and takes the new things to his room.

He places the pumpkin on top of the dresser, pride of place beside the pin-up drawing he did of Robin and himself when he first started learning to draw. After this, he carefully stores the letter in the top draw where he keeps his important things, like the Atlantian coin Aquaman gave him as a present, the old Batarang Robin presented him with, and the leather pouch that had once belonged to Wonder Woman's mother.

Kon expects things to carry on as per normal.

~

Unfortunately, life does not carry on as normal.

Kon isn't expecting anyone at The Watchtower for another hour, it is simply too early for anyone to be on duty. The Watchtower's lights are dimmed in the morning, which Kon likes. It's a good time to have the base to himself.

Kon is in the kitchen eating his cereal and reading the Amazonian alphabet book Wonder Woman lent him, which is why he doesn't hear the zeta tube go off in the other room or even the soft fluttering of a cape that should have alerted him to another presence.

Somebody slides into the breakfast barstool next to him just as Kon finishes a section on consonants.

“What'cha reading?”

Kon knows that voice, but it's never sounded so soft or… _friendly_ before. His head snaps up, but he already knows who he'll see. Superman is looking at him tentatively, almost warily, but there is something in his face that Kon hasn't ever seen before. He's not sure what it is, but the expression pulls him up short.

“A book,” he says softly, slowly, hesitantly. Then Superman frowns and Kon realizes the man meant what _kind_ of book. Quickly he adds, “about the Amazonian alphabet.”

Superman nods and his eyes flick down to the book and then back up again.

“You _enjoy_ reading stuff like that?”

He sounds bewildered and a maybe a little derisive (although Kon can't really tell), it's enough to put him on the defensive.

“I guess,” he mumbles, clinging to his cereal bowl like it could possibly protect him from whatever Superman says next. “I―what _should_ I like to read?” He doesn't want to tell Superman that he only has six books and one of them isn't even his. Maybe if he asks what Superman _wants_ him to read, he might be able to convince Robin to get it for him.

Superman just frowns and then lets out a puff of air that isn't impatient, but kind of still feels like it could be.

“I dunno,” he replies with a shrug. “I thought you'd be into more… science-y stuff, I guess. Robotics, chemistry…”

Kon knows that those are the things _Luthor_ is into. Suddenly he wonders why Superman is here at all.

“I don't know much about all that,” he returns so softly that he wonders if Superman even heard―but then he remembers that the man has super-hearing, like him, so of course he did. “I… I'm not a very good reader. I don't know much about a lot of stuff.”

Superman's frown deepens again and Kon shrinks in his seat and gathers up his book and his empty cereal bowl.

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes. Maybe it's a habit now? “You probably wanted to use the kitchen, right? I'll get out of your way.”

Quickly, Kon slides off his seat and moves to put his bowl and spoon into the dishwasher. He's gone from the room before Superman can even say another word.

~

Kon doesn't see Superman for nearly two weeks after that. The next time Kon sees him is when the Justice League holds a birthday party for The Flash. Virtually everyone is at The Watchtower, with the exception of Batman and Robin―which Kon will freely admit is a bit disappointing for him.

Kon stays in his room for most of the party, fully aware he didn't receive an invite and that Superman probably wouldn't want him crashing anyway. If the big blue and red hero wasn't in attendance, Kon might have considered staying in the common room with all the adults, but he doesn't want to be a bother and ruin the Flash's special celebration.

Instead, he holds his own birthday party with his action figures. Only the birthday party he holds is for himself and he pretends like he _has_ one of those… Kon wasn't born. He knows that much. He was grown in a test tube and then discarded (rescued?) and brought to The Watchtower where he's remained ever since.

He _wants_ a birthday. He wants to have a big party like the Flash got. He wants lot of friends to invite and he wants a cake to share with them. He would choose today as his birthday if it didn't already belong to the Flash.

Black Canary stumbles into his bedroom late in the afternoon, just as Kon is singing happy birthday to himself (he doesn't know all the words to the song, which is embarrassing, but he knows the tune okay).

“Oh, sorry,” she hiccups, smelling like champagne and looking a little dazed around the edges. “I thought this was the bathroom.”

“No,” he returns with a small smile. “Bathroom's next door.”

Her eyes have fixate on his action figures and then, suddenly, she's moving and plonking herself down on the floor opposite him, the action figures between them. She seems to have completely forgotten about the bathroom.

“What monster are we defeating today?” she asks, her words a little slurred, picking up the replica version of herself with a smile.

Kon shakes his head and laughs.

“No monsters or super-villains today,” he smirks. “We're having a birthday party.”

“For Flash,” she nods.

Kon shakes his head again, a little sadder this time.

“No… I… I know it _is_ his birthday, but… I wanted one too. I… thought maybe it would be okay to just pretend for a _little_ while…”

Her whole face crumples.

“Kiddo…” she sighs, scooting around until she's sitting right next to him. An arm comes up around his shoulders and she pulls him in close. Kon can smell her perfume and her shampoo and he knows that Black Canary isn't his mom, but if Kon had one he'd want her to be just like Black Canary. “Why didn't you come out and join us?”

Kon drops his head onto her shoulder and she rubs his arm.

“I didn't want to be a bother…” he whispers.

“You're not a bother,” she replies, giving his arm a little squeeze before returning to rubbing it gently. “We would love to have you out there with us.”

Kon smiles tightly, without any mirth behind it. “Superman wouldn't like it.”

Black Canary snorts. “Who cares what he thinks?” she snorts. “Everyone else would love you to be there. Besides, you've never had cake before and that is clearly a travesty.”

Before Kon can protest, Black Canary is helping him to his feet and dragging him towards the door. Kon could put his foot down and stop her, but it feels nice to know someone wants his company, so he indulges himself and allows her to lead him to the party.

“Kid!” Green Arrow shouts at him from across the room, gleeful and more than just a little drunk. “'Bout time you joined us.”

Black Canary walks them both over to the lounge where the man is sitting, conveniently the furthest place from where Superman is. Kon spares the blue and red man a glance before sitting down next to Green Arrow. Superman looks kind of torn between ignoring Kon altogether and acknowledging him just enough to pacify Wonder Woman, whom he is talking to. Eventually, Superman chooses the former and Wonder Woman looks like she's going to have a brain aneurysm from the waves of emotional constipation rolling off him, especially given how hard she rolls her eyes.

“I convinced him with the promise of cake,” Black Canary giggles.

The Flash is by their side in an instant, a plate with cake and a small fork in his hand.

“Here you go, bud,” he says, passing the proffered plate. “Hope you like raspberry and white chocolate.”

Kon smiles brightly at him. “Thank you, Mr. Flash,” he returns, taking the food gratefully. “I've never had raspberry and white chocolate before, so I don't know if I do like it,” and then, because he doesn't want to ruin anything, quickly tacks on, “I'm sure I will though, it looks delicious.”

Suddenly, it doesn't matter if the cake is the worst thing he's ever tasted, because he's going to damn well eat the entire thing and pretend he enjoyed every mouthful. Fortunately, the first bite he takes is absolute heaven, so he doesn't even have to pretend how much he enjoys the creamy flavors spilling across his tongue. In the end he eats two pieces because The Flash insists and he doesn't want to upset the man.

Kon has a good time at the party, he laughs and listens to the stories the adults tell, usually of hilarious solo missions that went awry, but sometimes of when they fought together. He learns a lot and he decides he wants to draw a picture for Green Arrow about the time he accidentally crashed Batman's operation into a multi-city drug running gang. Kon can imagine how unhappy the Batman would have been. Green Arrow would probably appreciate the drawing, he can't imagine the man tearing it up like Superman might.

It's growing quite late into the evening when the party starts to wind down.

Soon there's only a few people left, but there is one heck of a mess remaining.

Kon frowns at it and, deciding the adults might appreciate a hand, starts shuffling empty plates and glasses into the kitchen. On his third trip, Superman stops in front of him and demands to know what he's doing.

It's not said meanly, but Superman at his full height is enough to freak Kon out anyway.

“H–helping…?” he stutters. Maybe he's not being a help at all.

“Why?” Superman demands, folding his arms across his chest.

Kon tries not to wring his hands, but fails. “I… thought it… I just thought you might…” he doesn't want to say the word 'appreciate,' because it implies that Superman owes him thanks or something. Kon already knows that Superman doesn't owe him anything. “Um, it doesn't matter.”

Kon moves to head off towards his room, but a firm grip on his arm belays him. He looks up into crystal blue eyes and a face full of confusion.

“Wait,” Superman orders, merging Kon's feet with the floor. “Did you read my letter?”

The words are spoken quietly and maybe even with a little bit of hesitance.

Kon nods. “Yes.”

“And the chocolate?”

“Uh, yes. Thank you.”

“So what do you think?”

Kon isn't really sure how to reply to that.

“I'm not sure what you mean?”

Superman huffs and it sounds a little frustrated, fortunately, he lets go of Kon's arm around this time.

“The part about… about getting to _know you,_ kid. Will you let me get to know you?”

Oh. That bit. Kon smiles sadly.

“It's okay Mr. Superman,” he replies eventually, measured in his response, each word carefully thought through. “I understand, I really do. I'm sure I wouldn't want to get yelled at by Wonder Woman and Batman all the time either. I know the letter probably wasn't all you and I know how uncomfortable I make you. You don't have to know me, not if you don't want to. I realize the other adults are trying to push us together, but really I don't blame you if you decide you don't want to.”

Kon tries to phrase his out as nicely as possible, but it still kind of sounds like an attack on Superman's character, if he's honest.

Superman doesn't say anything for a long minute, and then he nods stiffly, says 'right' and then proceeds to turn on his heel and walk away.

Kon thinks that this will be all on the matter, and that will be that.

* * *

Cyborg makes sentry duty almost redundant after automating the system with Batman's assistance, so the leaguers really have no reason to come up to space anymore―with the exception of their bi-weekly meeting, in which Kon hardly sees them anyway.

It's become so _lonely_ now. Even more so than before. Kon hates it. There's never anyone around and he's so scared they'll forget he exists.

The choking silence of derelict halls of The Watchtower is only broken one day when a false alarm summons all available leaguers for a crisis―only for it to turn out to be a fault in the system.

Kon nearly weeps with relief when he sees Green Arrow come through the zeta-tube.

“Hey kiddo,” says the friendly man with a familiar smile and a ruffle to his hair. “How has your week been?” A week, two, a month, who's counting?

Kon all but attaches himself to the man's leg as a few other members of the justice league come through the zeta-tube.

“Lonely,” he admits, fiddling with the edges of the drawing clutched to his chest. He knows he has one shot at this, he doesn't want to screw it up. “I really missed everyone.”

Green Arrow looks sympathetic as he trundles down the stairs and takes up residence in his favorite spot on the communal couch as they wait for the other leaguers to arrive. Kon climbs up next to him.

“Aw, I'm sorry kid,” he says genuinely. “I'll make it up to you next time, okay?”

“Actually,” Kon interjects, hesitantly offering his drawing. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Kon gives Green Arrow a minute to absorb the picture on the page― _Green Arrow, Black Canary and him_. It's not the drawing he promised, but Kon doesn't think Green Arrow will mind.

“I wanted to know if I could come and stay with you?” The words are said in the quietest voice, almost to a whisper. Kon pushes on as Green Arrow suddenly seems to process what he's actually looking at.

“I know Superman doesn't think I belong on Earth, I know he thinks I'm dangerous, but I promise I'll be good. I _swear_ it. I won't be a bother _._ I'll be real good and I do everything you say.”

Except Green Arrow's face is falling and he's saying _“kid”_ in that tone that Kon knows means the man is sad about letting him down, but is going to do it anyway.

“I'm sorry,” he says, passing the drawing back and avoiding Kon's eyes. “I want too, but I can't. Roy―my son―I don't think he'd take it too well if I took in another kid right now.”

Kon takes the drawing back and dumbly stammers out, “O-oh.”

_Of course Green Arrow already has a son._

“I'm really sorry, kid…” Green Arrow says one last time as Kon slides off the couch.

“No,” Kon tries for a chuckle, but it sounds too strained to pass as anything other than disappointment. “I'm the one who… I didn't know. I'm sorry, I've intruded. I've been a bother again.”

Kon heads for his bedroom swiftly, thankful when Green Arrow doesn't draw attention to him by calling out after him. He clutches his drawing tightly to his chest the whole way.

Once his bedroom door is locked behind him, Kon sits on the floor and looks down at the picture in his hands once more.

 _He is such an idiot. A stupid, stupid idiot._ Why would he even think…? Kon doesn't know Green Arrow. Heck, he doesn't even know the man's real name! Why would he want to take in some kid he doesn't even know?

He doesn't even need Superman to break his creation this time, Kon does it himself, tearing the page in half first and then into pieces so small that it looks a little bit like snow.

Why would Green Arrow want to take in someone like him anyway?

Kon had just selfishly been thinking of himself. He'd thought it would be nice to wake up and see another smiling face, rather than just the same old reflection in the mirror.

But, of course, if any of the Justice League had wanted him, they would have taken him in by now.

Instead, Kon is still living at The Watchtower watching the rest of them try and convince Superman that Kon isn't a threat to Earth or to anyone―Kon is just an unfortunate lab accident that they'd taken on as their collective responsibility because they couldn't leave a super powered being on Earth unattended.

Kon just bawls for the rest of the day, crying and crying until there is nothing left in him to cry out.

When he comes out to make himself dinner, The Watchtower is empty once more.

~

As per usual, Kon isn't expecting Superman when he shows up.

It's been almost a full week since anybody came to The Watchtower, the league meetings having been temporarily adjourned for the holiday season―currently, everybody is making Thanksgiving preparations.

Hearing the familiar sound of the zeta-tube is a surprise. What's more, so is the person strolling down the stairs into the common room, where Kon has listlessly been lying on the couch and staring out at the stars. He sits up at the sound of Superman's tired huff.

“Superman?” He says curiously, furrowing his brow and wincing a little with how crackly and unused his voice sounds.

Blue eyes turn his way, no single, distinguishable emotion present there.

Kon continues against his better judgment, “What are you doing here?”

Superman scowls. “That not really any of your business, is it?” He snaps back, looking almost surprised by the heat in his own words.

Kon shrivels up a little and stammers out an apology, already preparing to slide off the couch and retreat to his room like he should have done in the first place.

“No, wait, kid,” Superman sighs wearily. “I didn't mean that, I'm sorry. Stay?”

Kon blinks a few times and readjusts himself on the sofa.

Superman comes over and sits down beside him, resting his elbows heavily on his knees and leaning forwards with an obvious weight wringing his emotions tightly.

“I had a fight with Lois,” Superman eventually admits with another sigh, closing his eyes for a moment and actively evening out his breathing.

“Oh,” says Kon, and then, “who is Lois?”

Superman turns a startled eye his way and then lets out a huff of laughter as he runs a hand back through his hair and reclines on the sofa.

“I forget sometimes that not _everyone_ up here knows both sides of my life,” he smirks, the first true smile Kon thinks he's ever seen the man give him. (Something bright and fluttery makes itself known in his chest then, but Kon is too scared of the new feeling to put a name to it). “Lois is my wife.”

Kon blinks once more, slightly dumbfounded.

“You have a _wife?”_

Superman nods. “Yeah, we were having a disagreement about whether we should visit _her_ parents or _my_ parents this year for Thanksgiving. At this point, I'd rather just have Thanksgiving with the two of us and be done with it.”

Kon hadn't even known Superman had parents.

“Is it fun?” He asks instead of the questions he'd really like to. “Thanksgiving, I mean?”

Superman shrugs. “It can be, if you're with the right people. There's always lots of good food at my Ma's place and she makes the most _heavenly_ apple pie.”

Kon thinks Thanksgiving might not be _quite_ as good as Halloween, but it sounds like a close second. He sits back on the couch with a little smile playing at his lips, the words there not really passing through the filter in his brain before forming on his tongue.

“You're so lucky to have so many people who want to spend the holidays with you,” he muses absently. “I wish I had someone to spend Thanksgiving with.” Maybe he can convince Wonder Woman to teach _him_ how to make apple pie. He wants to celebrate it somehow.

Superman's breath hitching is the strangest little sound and Kon stiffens as he suddenly realizes what he's said. _That's not your fault,_ he immediately goes to say, but Superman beats him to the punch.

“Aren't you spending Thanksgiving with Robin and Batman and his brood?”

There's something a little tense and a little strangled about the way Superman says it.

Kon frowns. “No?”

“But didn't you spend Halloween with them?” Superman presses again, raising an eyebrow and looking at Kon squarely now. The intensity of his gaze makes Kon drop his own.

“Uh, no. I was here. I can't leave The Watchtower by myself and no one has ever taken me to Earth before.”

Superman's jaw is almost slack when Kon meets his eyes again. He squirms a little under the gaze, but then Superman says, “You mean to tell me you've never been out of The Watchtower before?”

Well, Kon wouldn't say _never..._

“I was at CADMUS before I was here…”

Superman waves him off. “CADMUS was a prison. This is your home.”

Kon doesn't really see a difference, personally. One was just a prison where he was frozen ninety-nine percent of the time. Recently The Watchtower has been feeling more like a prison than CADMUS ever did. He doesn't say any of this though, he doesn't want to upset Superman.

Instead, Kon just shrugs.

“I guess,” he says, looking around the room and feeling strangely empty inside. “But I thought homes were supposed to be where families lived?”

Kon remembers watching something on television about the way homes changed in different cultures, but they'd all had one thing in common, there was always some kind of a family living in them.

“I don't have a family and I'm just living here because no one knows what else to do with me.”

Superman looks shocked and poorly conceals his emotions with a hard swallow in an attempt to rein it in. “That's… not true.”

Kon sees through the lie as easily as glass.

“Yeah it is,” he sighs knowingly, looking out at the stars once again. “Nobody wants me or needs me, but that's okay, I understand and I get it.”

_It's not okay, but he isn't going to say that to Superman._

“You don't like it here?” Superman asks, sounding oddly sad about that.

Kon just shrugs again.

“It's fine,” he replies, still not looking at the older man. “Not like I have anywhere else to go.”

There's steel in Superman's voice when he speaks again, a long few minutes later. It's the most like the version of himself on TV that Kon's ever heard and it startles his interest enough to meet Superman's determined gaze.

“You should spend the holidays with me.”

At first, Kon thinks he's misheard.

“What?”

Superman takes in a slow breath and repeats himself, this time making it more of a question. He looks awkward and uncomfortable about it.

“Do you… do you want to spend the holidays with me?”

Kon is so stunned into silence that he hangs onto it for possibly a few minutes too long. Superman seems to take his quiet as a definite _'no'_ and starts babbling out an excuse or an explanation or something to that effect when Kon interrupts him mid-sentence.

“Yes!” he exclaims brightly, grabbing onto Superman's hand. He's so thrilled that he doesn't even react to the slight flinch Superman gives at his touch. “Yes! Please! I would love to!”

He desperately hopes Superman doesn't renege on his offer.

The man gives him the smallest of smiles and then moves to stand. Kon allows him to go, releasing his grip without hesitation.

“Guess I'd better call Lois then.”

* * *

Superman's house is smaller than Kon had imagined it would be. In his head he had imagined a big, grand, old house, but instead it's actually a moderately sized apartment in mid-Metropolis.

It's very late at night when they get there, but nevertheless there's a dark-haired lady with a disapproving glare that greets them when they arrive. Kon does his best not to hide behind Superman, but he's not entirely successful. The woman is just too intimidating, and if the way Superman's heart-rate spikes when he sees her is anything to go by, the older man thinks so too.

Kon knows this is Lois, Superman's wife, even before a formal introduction. He just wishes he could meet more people who were happy upon meeting him. So far, most people have frowned or scowled at seeing him for the first time. Kon can count the people on one hand who have greeted him with a genuine smile.

“You are in a lot of trouble,” she says to Superman, poking a finger at him and narrowing her eyes for a moment to really let her glare sink in before releasing the room from her irritation. She turns to Kon next.

“You must be Kon,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “I'm Lois, Clark's wife, it's nice to meet you.”

Kon hurries to put his single suitcase down and rushes to greet her. “Oh, um, you too.”

She's pretty, he decides. And he likes her smile, when she does do so eventually.

But Kon has to quickly remind himself not to get too attached as their respective hands retract. Even if that will be difficult. Kon sometimes feels like a leech, constantly demanding affection. Maybe that was why he made Green Arrow uncomfortable, and maybe that was part of the reason Superman rejected him at first. He doesn't want to drive Lois away like he seems to drive everyone else, so he vows not to be too underfoot and demanding.

“Come on,” Clark sighs, briefly resting a hand on Kon's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I'll show you too the guest room.”

Kon picks up his suitcase and quickly follows, noticing that Lois' eyes follow them out the room.

The guest room is small, but cheery, and it smells like freshly laundered sheets. Kon has to resist the urge to flop on the bed immediately, as much as he wants to. Instead, he nods as Superman gestures around the room, indicating where he should put his clothes―(the dresser)―where the bathroom is―(down the hall, to the left)―where he should put his clothes when they're dirty―(the hamper, obviously).

Superman bids him a goodnight before retreating out the room, looking more awkward than usual, and closing the door on his way out, leaving Kon to put away his three shirts, two pairs of pants and jocks, one pair of spare socks, and his actions figures―which he sets up on top of the dresser, pride of place. Out of a sense of gratefulness, he places Superman at the forefront of the group for the first time, where Batman usually goes. It's weird seeing him there, but it would be worse for him if Superman ever found out that he'd taken to hiding this particular action figure in his bottom draw of late.

Kon changes into his single set of pajamas, switches out the light and throws his current clothes in the hamper, moving his shoes out the way by the window before climbing into bed and snuggling down into the soft linens. The sounds of Metropolis at night are many more than at The Watchtower in space, but he's tired from the emotional roller coaster and eventually the noise of traffic lulls him to sleep.

~

The next morning starts curiously.

Kon is the first to rise, poking his head out of his bedroom and wandering silently into the lounge area. There's a big window there that looks out towards the city and through it, sunlight streams in a glittering, brilliant array of light, the likes of which Kon only sees when The Watchtower greets the sun, but before the UV shielding kicks in and the sight is smuggled away again behind layers of darkened glass. He is tempted to just sit on the carpet and feel the warmth on his skin, but he lingers for only a moment before moving to the kitchen.

For his first day on Earth, Kon knows he needs to make a good impression if he is going to be allowed to stay. So, grabbing several eggs from the fridge along with some bacon, he finds a frying pan and starts up the stove, throwing the bacon in first. The eggs go in soon after and Kon goes on a hunt for some bread, finding half a loaf in the pantry, most of which ends up going through the toaster. He sets the table―place-mats, silverware, condiments, juice―and then quickly hurries to start loading up the plates after hearing the tell-tale sign of a bedroom door opening.

It's Lois. Kon doesn't quite know what to feel when he sees her.

She yawns, covering it behind her hand as her face simultaneously twists into a frown upon seeing the laid out table and the plates of food Kon has prepared. It makes him nervous, he doesn't like it when people frown.

“What are you doing, Kon?” she asks, sounding more confused than anything. It's not said angrily, so he tries not to stress immediately.

He swallows and loads up the last of the bacon onto a plate. “I, uh, I made breakfast.”

Lois' frown only deepens.

“You didn't have to do that,” she huffs, which in turn sparks panic like a wildfire in Kon's chest.

Oh no. Is he in trouble? Maybe she'd wanted something different, Kon should have asked before stepping into the kitchen. He'd only wanted to make a good impression, but _that_ idea was suddenly falling apart as quickly as a waterlogged sandcastle.

Kon looks at the plates of food he's prepared and then back at her and then he looks away again, unable to hold her gaze for any amount of time.

“I'm so sorry,” he apologizes, a go-to reflex as always. “I should have asked before touching your food, I hadn't meant to―to be a bother. I just, I wanted to um, help. I'm sorry.”

Before he knows it, Lois' hand has come down on his shoulder and he tries very hard not to flinch, though he's not entirely successful.

“You're very welcome to our food, Kon,” she says, not furious or brusquely at all. “You just take what you need, okay? All I meant to say was that you didn't _have to_ make breakfast for us all, although I'm very glad that you did―this looks amazing.”

He risks a little look up at her and she gives him an encouraging smile. Oh.

Kon returns the small smile, still a little uneasy on his lips, but there all the same.

The moment between them is broken by Superman, who strolls into the kitchen rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Smells wonderful out here,” he compliments, sitting at the table and taking a large gulp of juice as Lois picks up two of the three plates and carries them to the table, Kon taking the third.

“Doesn't it?” Lois replies, smile widening into a grin as she slides into her seat and watches Kon do the same. “Looks like Kon's a pretty good chef―better than _you_ anyway!” she laughs, picking up a fork and stabbing into a strip of bacon.

Kon is expecting some sort of retaliation to that, at the very least a withering glare shot his way, but instead Superman just shrugs.

“Hey, that's not particularly hard, my calling was most certainly never cooking,” he says. Then, after shoving half an egg in his mouth and sparing a little look towards Kon, compliments: “You make a pretty great fried egg, kiddo.”

Kon blinks and then flourishes silently under the praise. This is the first time Superman has ever complimented him. It seems almost like a dream, especially when thrown against the stark contrast that was their first few interactions. Back then, Kon had thought Superman wouldn't ever even look at him without anger and hurt and frustration burning behind his eyes.

Perhaps things are looking up for him, he thinks, smiling down at his egg. Maybe things are changing.

~

Lois takes him grocery shopping later that day and Kon isn't sure he's ever been this excited in his life―he's practically vibrating out of his skin, although he tries hard not to annoy Lois even in his enthusiasm. The food at The Watchtower was always delivered through the zeta-tube, thanks to Batman's oversight. Kon has never before been able to _choose_.

Luckily, Lois doesn't seem to mind his exuberance, if anything she seems to find it amusing whenever Kon picks up an unusual item on a shelf and runs over to ask her what it is―he finds out that peanut butter isn't _just_ found in chocolate. Which sort of blows his mind and then they add two jars of it to their basket. Lois even makes the comment that she hasn't had this much fun grocery shopping ever in her whole life, which makes Kon grin and love her even more. Barely two days in and he already knows he's going to miss her when he goes back to The Watchtower after the holidays.

They return home and have just finished putting all the food away when Superman walks through the door in his human disguise. Kon slinks away to his room, mostly out of respect for Lois―he knows she must be utterly sick of him by now, and he has to keep his internal promise about not driving her away with his attention seeking and time demanding self.

Kon goes off to draw in his room, leaving his door slightly ajar and hearing the sounds of the television in the lounge sometime later. He's going to draw a portrait of Lois so that he never forgets what she looks like. When he goes back he'll put it up somewhere in his room and it'll forever remind him of their wonderful day out. Even though Lois reported that grocery shopping wasn't typically considered _fun_ , Kon disagrees―he saw so much and learned so much―but then again, Lois doesn't know what it's like after a whole week of quiet solitude up in The Watchtower.

Some time later, voices start to filter in along with the noises of the television. Quietly at first, but steadily growing louder. Kon's ears tune in to the conversation only after he hears an exasperated huff leave Superman's mouth.

“It's bizarre, Clark,” Lois is saying, and Kon can just picture her gesticulating with sure hands along with the emphasis in her words. “I know he's never been to Earth before and I understand everything you've told me about CADMUS and such, but why would he know how to cook a full fry-up breakfast and not know that peanut butter comes in non-chocolate form?”

There's a beat where Kon imagines Superman shrugging, then he says, “Well, I guess Bruce never sent plain old peanut butter up along with bacon, eggs and cereal. I don't know Lois, why are you so concerned about this?”

“I'm not… _concerned_ ,” she replies slowly, tentatively, as though she could be chewing her bottom lip and staring into nothingness as she thinks. “Just confused.”

“He has been at The Watchtower ever since we found him,” Superman continues a moment later, almost off-handedly. “I guess if he hadn't learned to cook by now, he probably would've gone hungry. League members don't exactly make a point of going to space every day for three months just to cook meals.”

There's a soft hitch in Lois' breath that, for a second, Kon thinks he imagines. But then, there's almost a _growl_ in her voice when Lois speaks again.

“ _Three months?!”_ she barks, enough ferocity in her tone to make Kon accidentally drop his pencil. “He's been up there alone for _three months!?”_

Kon swallows hard and slides off the bed. The pencil has disappeared, he didn't see where it landed.

“Yes?” Superman replies with confusion more than anything else. “Where else was he going to go?”

“Here, Clark!” Lois explodes, sounding like she's probably standing now. “You didn't think to bring him here? He's just a _child_.”

Kon's hand reaches under the bed, starting to feel around for the familiar wood of his pencil, but his fingers are trembling now and he's trying really hard not to drag both his hands back and pull them over his ears.

He doesn't want to hear them arguing, Kon hates it when people argue. It's usually his fault.

“Look, Lois,” Superman says, strangely even in his tone. Although maybe it's not strange, Superman has already likely had this conversation with several members of the Justice League. Kon's not oblivious to the fact that they'd initially wanted him to stay with Superman, but eventually they'd given up when the man had made his views on Kon painfully clear. “I am _trying_ with Kon, but you don't know how… how _hard_ it has been for me. He's… he's my… half my _clone_ , not my son, _my clone_. And also half Lex Luthor. I just wasn't equipped to deal with that, not at first.”

Some of the fight seems to go out of Lois then, as though she really is trying to see it from the other point of view, but her tone is still dangerously sharp when she replies.

“I understand, I do,” she responds tightly, the ordinarily jovial quaver of her voice flat and controlled. “But I'm not sure you've ever stopped to consider _his_ perspective, Clark. He might be your clone or whatever, but he's still as much of a person as you are. So far, all that Kon knows is that he's very much on his own in this world, that's all that you've shown him.”

Superman begins with, “I―” but then his sentence drops away into nothing. Kon can almost picture the frown of confusion and deep thought meandering its way across the older man's face. They must have a silent conversation then, made up of facial expressions only, because the next thing Superman says is: “…you know he can't stay forever, don't you?”

Finally, his fingers brush across his pencil and Kon draws his hand back from under his bed. He finds the sudden quiet uncomfortable and frightening.

Lois doesn't reply, but her silence speaks volumes.

As much as Kon loves it here already, he knows he'll have to go back to The Watchtower eventually. He doesn't belong on Earth; he drives people away. Kon doesn't mean too, but it happens anyway. It's definitely better that he goes back before he can drive a wedge between Lois and Superman, he thinks.

_Even if the thought of going back_ _makes him ache with a desperate want to stay._

* * *

November passes Kon in a blur of color and light and joy, and then begins December, which passes by in much the same way.

Whenever Lois and Clark are at work, which they are most days, Kon gets the apartment to himself. Robin, who goes by Tim when he's not in costume, comes by several times and at some point the two of them create a bucket list of all the things Kon wants to do before he goes back to space. Then they start crossing each item off together, one by one.

There comes one particular day when they're at the park just outside the museum, having spent all morning looking at all the fascinating artefacts inside. Kon is halfway through a mouthful of curried egg and lettuce sandwich―courteously provided to him thanks to the Wayne family butler, Alfred―when Tim smacks his lips thoughtfully and crinkles his noise.

“Have you thought about a name for yourself, Kon?” he asks, pausing the ascent of his own sandwich into his mouth, eyes surreptitiously studying for a reaction.

Kon frowns at him, puzzled, as he swallows down his food. Then, blinking curiously, asks, “What do you mean? I have a name.”

Tim flaps a single hand at him. “I know,” he acknowledges with a little huff, “but I mean a _human_ name. Like a secret alias or something. Superman has one, you could have one too.”

Kon's frown only deepens and his eyes drop down to his mostly finished sandwich. “I'm not Superman,” is the only thing he can think of to reply. “Or human.”

Tim shrugs and says, off-handedly, “You're more human than he is,” before taking a sizeable bite out of his sandwich.

“I suppose,” he returns, and that's that―there's very little further convincing required. Kon decides he wants a human name and in the end he chooses Conner, because it's easy to remember and sounds similar to his actual name.

Tim thinks it's fitting, and it's a little part of Earth that Kon knows he'll be able to take back with him once the holidays are over.

~

They end up spending Christmas with the Kent's, having gone to the Lane family house for Thanksgiving. Kon feels particularly stressed and anxious about meeting Superman's parents up until he accidentally overhears the man on the phone with his mother―Lois doesn't even try to hide the smugness in her smirk as the furious tones of Martha Kent are heard throughout the house, chewing Superman out in much the same way Lois had―when she learns about Kon. He feels the tiniest bit better after that.

On Christmas day, when he actually meets 'Ma' and 'Pa' Kent, he's swept up into big hugs, handed a mug of hot chocolate whilst the adults pass around the eggnog, and is warmly welcomed into the family.

Kon finds it uncomfortable at first, sticking to Superman like a leech because at least he knows Superman won't be overly affectionate―although, at some point whilst Kon is settling himself on the floor beside the smaller love-seat in the lounge in anticipation of gifts, a heavy hand migrates to his shoulder and rests there a moment. Superman is no hugger, but Kon has noticed an upward trend in small gestures and a downward one in anger and shouting as of late. Maybe that's Lois' doing, maybe not, who can really say.

Christmas day sees him open a lot of presents, which is completely unexpected. No one had explained to him about the tradition of gift giving beforehand so Kon feels awfully guilty about not getting anyone anything, even though the adults tell him not to worry about it.

The two older Kent's give him a handmade quilt, stars and suns and moons stitched intricately all over. In the bottom right corner is his name, stitched in threads of black and red which stand out beautifully against the colors in the quilt. Kon wears it around his shoulders for most of the day like a cape.

Lois gifts him a stack of new clothes, including a cool pair of red trainers, several more shirts, underwear and socks, and a beautiful red scarf she claims to have hand knitted.

“It's not perfect,” she admits sheepishly, blush rising to color her cheeks, but Kon loves it anyway and smuggles it away around his neck, underneath the quilt blanket that covers his body.

Lastly, what Kon receives from Superman is… much more confusing. But then again, it's confusing that they've reached a point where Superman is giving him gifts, so there's that too.

A first Kon thinks it is just a large, shiny rock, but then the man awkwardly begins to explain its origins, that it actually comes from a place called The Fortress of Solitude and that the rock is in fact actually more like a lamp.

Superman's fingers barely brush the lamp and it lights up the room in an array of colors. Blues, purples, greens, yellows and reds all dance around the room and make the lights on the Christmas tree look pale by comparison. However, when Lois tries to turn the lamp off, it doesn't.

“Why won't it turn off?” She huffs in annoyance, tapping the lamp several times, much to Superman's amusement.

Kon reaches out to try―and the lamp's colors quickly die, the rainbow spectacle disappearing. Superman's hand brushes over his shoulder for a second time and there's something warm in his eyes as they flit past Kon, his mouth already curling into a smirk as he turns to Lois.

“It's programmed to work only for Kryptonian DNA, I think.”

The words hit Kon like a ton of bricks, Superman's redirected smirk suddenly melting into more of a smile as he turns back to what Kon can only assume is his face―like that of a stunned fish.

“Do you like it?” He asks, sounding a little nervous, though what he could possibly be nervous about, Kon isn't sure.

He can barely swallow past the hard lump in his throat as he replies in something close to a reverent whisper, “I love it.”

Their shared DNA has always been a sore spot for Superman, so Kon doesn't know what to make of… this new development. But he feels like it might be positive, though he almost doesn't dare allow himself to hope as he smuggles the blooming happiness in his chest squarely away for future analysis.

It's later, just after lunch, when Kon steps out onto the front porch, joining Superman as he stares out at the cows in the field, that he is really able to thank the older man for his present.

Superman looks a little uncomfortable from the stuttered appreciation at first, but after a short moment of awkwardness, he shuffles a little closer to Kon and bumps his shoulder gently.

“I'm glad you like it, kid,” is all he says, but it's gentle and warm and it inspires something similar to flutter about in Kon's chest like a joyful little bird.

~

After a wonderful, whirlwind, three day break of fun and excitement at the Kent family farm, the three of them go home.

Kon puts away the clothes Lois gave him, throws the quilt over the top of his bedspread and sets up his lamp the minute he gets back.

After night settles in, Lois suggests they watch a movie and directs Kon to the extensive Kent-Lane library of movies―some so old they're on clunky VCR tapes!

Kon ends up picking something cheerful and Christmas themed and Superman laughs at him and says, “haven't had enough of Christmas yet, huh?”

A tentative grin wobbles at the corners of Kon's mouth when he replies, “I don't want the holidays to ever end!”

Superman's eyebrows go up, but his face turns sharp quickly, brow drawing in and making him look pinched and frustrated. Kon isn't sure what wrong he's said to put that expression on the older man's face, but he shuffles over to Lois swiftly, hurriedly helping her set up the film. He doesn't want to ruin this budding new relationship he has with the older man, so if egg-shells he must walk, then lightly he shall tread.

However, over the course of the film―and Kon's not completely sure how it happens―Lois moves to the other end of the couch after getting up to fetch popcorn at some point, and Superman curls up in the corner of the sofa. Kon ends up firmly wedged between the two of them, tucked tightly up against Superman's side with Lois' head in his lap and Superman's arm lazily draped around his shoulders almost protectively.

It feels almost surreal.

Kon never ever thought he would get this from anyone, let alone Superman. After everything, Kon isn't even sure he still _wanted_ this from Superman, but the curl of warmth in his stomach and the bubble of blissful happiness in his heart is enough to disprove that notion.

Kon has always wanted this from Superman. Even when the man had hated him, he had just wanted to know the closest thing he had to a father. Kon had just wanted to be a part of his family. Now, if he closes his eyes and lets himself forget about the future, he can kind of imagine he is.

That night he must fall asleep on the lounge, because when he wakes in the morning―in his bed―he can just faintly recall strong arms lifting him up and carrying him to his room. Kon is sure the rest of his memory is dream-addled, because he can't possibly believe that Superman had dropped the swiftest peck of a kiss to his brow before tucking him in.

~

Despite everything, Kon's not _completely_ swept up in his ever-growing desire to stay on Earth. Reality is always just the blink of an eye away, even though Kon keeps turning to avoid looking at it.

That is until he wakes up with a sense of dread on New Years Day.

For a minute it practically paralyses him, its claws sinking in. It takes him nearly thirty-minutes to dress in clean clothes and make his bed, putting off the depressing chore for as long as he can… but he has to go back to The Watchtower soon, it's high time he stops delaying the inevitable.

Action figures go into a bag, along with all his new clothes. So does the drawing he did of Lois, the sketch pad she bought him and the pencils Tim gave him. The Kryptonian lamp Superman gave him and the blanket from the Kent's go on top, both too big to fit inside the duffle.

Soon enough the room looks barely lived in again, almost all of Kon's worldly possessions stuffed in a bag and ready to move on whenever he is.

Kon takes the bag and the couple other things into the living room and deposits them by the side of the sofa. With a depressed little sigh he looks at the small pile there, already wondering when (or even if) he'll be allowed to come back to Earth again. He's loved spending time with Superman and Lois, but they don't want him to stay forever―that was made perfectly clear on the day he arrived and accidentally eavesdropped on their conversation.

Kon is just a guest here, a guest who has already overstayed their welcome by a long shot. It's time to go back to The Watchtower and he thinks he is ready―mentally fortified enough to return to the empty halls and silent hours there.

With the notion of breakfast in mind, Kon is about to start making something for himself when the two adults emerge from their own bedroom, each managing a smile at the sight of him.

“Good morning,” Superman says, brushing past him lightly with a yawn, already reaching for the coffee machine. “You're up and ready early. Have you got something on today? Going out with Tim?”

Before Kon can reply, Lois points and interjects curiously, “What's with the bag?”

“Oh, uh…” he responds slowly, lethargic and despondent. It seems they've forgotten what day it is; the holidays are just about over. “The Justice League meets tonight.”

Superman tiredly murmurs agreement, as Lois sends him a look filled with confusion. “What do you mean by that, Kon?”

Kon shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, doubts and insecurities he'd all but shirked over the course of the last month rushing back at him like a wave. As much as he wants to stay, he knows he has to force that desire from his heart and mind―he would beg to stay, if he thought it would do any good. It wouldn't, though. All it would do is ruin any chance he has of ever coming back.

Earth isn't his home, that has been made plain and clear. Lois and… and _Clark_ mean the world to him, but their worlds are much bigger than just him.

“I just figured I'd pack early,” he admits with a shrug, dropping his gaze to the new red trainers on his feet, absently noting that one shoelace seems to have come undone as Superman slides a freshly made cup of coffee across the table for Lois and gets started on eggs by switching on the burner. “I didn't want to forget anything.”

Lois' expression turns into a frown as she takes a first sip from the mug in her hand. Then, swallowing, she not unkindly inquires, “What do you mean, Kon? Pack for where?”

Kon lifts his eyes slowly, sadly. Time has run away on her, it seems. Quite opposite to the acute, hypersensitivity Kon has had to it.

“The Watchtower,” he answers, then looking at Superman, says, “I have to go back tonight, right?”

Superman looks at him and Kon might almost call the expression on his features pained. “Do you _want_ to go back to The Watchtower, Kon? I thought you said you were lonely up there… why would you want to go back?”

He _doesn't_ want to go back, but he can't bring himself to admit that. Part of him wonders if this might be a test, but Superman wouldn't… Kon knows him better than that now.

“It is lonely sometimes, but I know I can't keep staying in your guest bedroom forever,” he replies sadly. “Besides, I don't want to wear out my welcome―you said just for the holidays, after all.”

Lois and Superman seem to share a panicked glance, but he has to finish. Kon needs them to know how he feels; he wants to come back some day.

“I've had a really great time with you both here,” he continues. “The best, actually, but I know I… I know it's time for me to go back.”

There's a wobbly expression on Lois' face when he looks over at her, a type of sadness he doesn't dare name. Superman, meanwhile, is frowning deeply, having taken up a seat at the dinning table alongside his wife. If Kon didn't know any better, he might have thought the man to be using x-ray vision, perhaps just to see what gears were whirring in Kon's mind.

Silence rings around the room for a long time, but Superman breaks it upon lowering his coffee mug to the table.

“Kon,” he says slowly, not looking mad, but features unreadable enough for Kon to feel mildly anxious. “Would you mind taking a seat at the table please. We need to have a chat.”

Kon tries not to take note of his own trembling fingers as he moves toward the table and reaches out for a chair, sliding into it noiselessly.

Superman looks very serious when he speaks next, but spares an obviously nervous glance toward Lois before taking in a deep breath.

“I―I'm… I don't want to take you back,” he blurts out after an initial stumble.

For a second, Kon wonders if his brain completely wipes out.

“Huh?” he replies dumbly, not computing.

Superman takes another breath and tries again, slower this time.

“I want you to stay, kid,” he says evenly, and his features melt into something just as wobbly as his wife's face, but it's obviously warm and plainly loving and it's directed straight at _him_.

“I don't want to take you back to The Watchtower,” Superman says again, apparently oblivious to Kon's world imploding. “I want you to stay, we _both_ want you to stay. I've been more than just unkind to you in the past, but having you stay here with us has made me realize a few things, not least of all what an incredible, special kid you are.

I was never really sure I was ever going to be a father, I hated the whole idea for a long time, but then you came to stay with us for the past couple of months and I realised I wanted to try.

I don't think I can even stand the thought of you going back, not anymore. Although I don't deserve you―and I _know_ I don't deserve such a bright, wonderful boy as you―will you let us be your family? Will you let _me_ be family?”

For a stunned second, Kon feels like someone has hit him over the back of the head with a mallet.

He blinks once, swallows, opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, and then opens it for a second time.

“You… want to be my family?” He asks in a quiet whisper, as if speaking too loudly will break the spell and Superman will retract his statement.

The two adults staring at him both smile slowly and start to nod, Lois' hand reaching across the table to where his sit on the surface, clasped together tightly.

“Yes,” affirms Superman, his own voice dropping into something _almost_ a whisper. “More than anything.”

Kon blinks at him again. Twice. And then, because suddenly there's too much overwhelming emotion, big fat tears start to streak down his face as he pushes back from the table and literally launches himself at the older man.

“Yes,” he sobs, to what appears to be the mild amusement and simultaneous elation of both adults in the room. “I want to stay!”

Arms come up around his back and Kon's face gets buried in Clark's shoulder. Lois is making sniffling noises in her own spot, but Kon hardly hears anything over the four little words Clark whispers in his ear.

“I love you, Kon.”


	2. Family Jam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family Jam

Staring despondently at the almost entirely blank homework assignment in front of him, Kon puffs out a frustrated breath and briefly squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. A conflicted sigh follows as he allows the pen between his fingers to clatter lightly onto the study desk, an array of confusing emotions weighing heavily on his chest. They make it difficult to breathe properly as the stark white paper glares up at him dispassionately, as if to taunt him, the watery vortex of guilt and shame in his stomach causing it to grumble anxiously. The sound is so loud it is likely even heard by the other Kryptonian in the apartment―despite the wall segregating his room from the lounge and dinning area.

Kon doesn't allow himself the luxury of a pitying groan, too afraid that the other man might hear it and come to check in, but he does slump over his desk and bury his forehead in the nook of his elbow, nose picking up the faint scent of Lois' favorite laundry powder on his clothes.

This part of the assignment was supposed to be _easy_ , but Kon left it until the last minute because it brought up so many questions and feelings that he thought he would have the answers to by now.

It's been six months since Lois and Sup― _Clark_ invited him to live permanently with them.

Kon hasn't regretted it, not for a second, but the question of, _“What am I to you?”_ never really did come up naturally. Now, he's maybe just a little bit afraid to ask. It would be presumptuous for him to assume…

 _W_ _ell_. Mrs. McGavin expected the family tree back tomorrow, each member of Kon's history class to spend five minutes presenting their tree before they move onto the next part of the assignment, but the only part Kon has managed to fill in is his own name: Conner, above the parenthesis that contains the word, _“me.”_

The line above _“_ _f_ _ather”_ continues to remain blank, staring at him like a toddler that hasn't learned the meaning of the ashamed.

Kon's grade will suffer if he doesn't turn anything in, he knows that, but still, it's tempting to just shred the assignment up into little pieces and then pretend he lost it among the mountain of other school work.

Another melancholy but silent sigh escapes from between his lips just as a gentle knock echoes through his door, the noise jerking him out of the tired, gloomy posture he's slipped into. Kon doesn't want to worry Lois or Clark, especially not over something as ridiculous as a homework assignment.

“Hey kiddo,” a voice says, Clark's head popping into his room brightly before the rest of the man follows. “You hungry?”

 _Figures_.

“Uhm,” Kon returns eloquently, pushing away from his desk whilst simultaneously sliding the worksheet under a pile of textbooks. “Yeah, I could eat.”

“Great!” Clark smiles, and it's like someone's switched on a very powerful light bulb. “Pizza night? I don't really feel like cooking…”

“Sure,” Kon smiles back, but he knows his smile will never reach the wattage of Clark's, not even when he truly means it. “No pineapple, please.”

Clark's nose scrunches up.

“No, of course not,” he snorts. “There's only one pineapple heathen in this house―”

“―Lois.” They both say together, which makes Kon's smile feel a little bit more like a grin and a little bit more real too.

“Did I just hear you both call me a heathen?!” Lois cries from the entryway, the sound of her dropping her keys into the bowl beside the door audible.

Clark winks at him as they wait for Lois to make her way to Kon's room, both of them keenly aware of each step thanks to their super-hearing.

“Pineapple doesn't belong on pizza, Lois,” Clark says with a grin, even as he bends down to place a gentle peck to his wife's cheek.

“It's gross,” Kon contributes, earning him an amused laugh from Lois.

“To each their own,” she shrugs, sliding an arm around Clark's waist, but missing the soft, melted expression the older man wears as she does it. “But why are we discussing pineapple on pizza?”

“Pizza night, apparently,” Kon replies, standing and sliding his chair under his desk, already putting Mrs. McGavin's history assignment from his mind.

“Oh really,” she says, happily, starting to turn and make her way out of Kon's room. “I want Hawaiian then.”

“Of course you do,” Clark says fondly, following.

 _Maybe the history assignment will be easier to do in the morning,_ he thinks.

~

In the end, Kon turns in the blank page with just his name on it.

It earns him a frown and a twist of his history teacher's lips.

“It's empty,” she observes astutely.

“I… I wrote my name,” Kon shrugs and diverts his eyes.

“Yes,” Mrs. McGavin huffs, exasperatedly, “but it's a _family_ tree, Conner. You're supposed to fill in _at least_ your mother, father and any siblings you have. Grandparents as well.”

“I don't have any siblings,” he deflects badly. The distraction doesn't work.

“Just your mom and dad, then.”

“I…”

The words, _I don't know if I have those either_ get stuck on his tongue and don't budge.

“I'm sorry,” he says instead. “I'll do better next time.”

Mrs. McGavin gives him a weird little look before she softens and says, quietly, “You're a really good student, Conner. You're doing well in my class, don't start letting your grades slip now. Here, I'll give this assignment back to you and if you finish it by tonight then I'll let you turn this in late.”

Kon kind of wants to cry as he takes the assignment back with a nod and a mumbled promise to have it all filled in by tomorrow.

~

That afternoon, Tim visits whilst Lois and Clark are still at work.

“Here,” he says handing over a package with a grin. “I thought you might like it.”

Inside, carefully wrapped, are new drawing materials. Charcoal pencils. They're different from the graphite ones Tim had given him once before, the texture is all different. It's weird, but cool.

Connor loves them immediately and tells Tim so.

“Saw 'em,” Tim smiles back and scoots a little closer. “And thought you could do with some more supplies.”

Kon knocks his shoulder against Tim's, but his eyes never leave the pencils, an idea already forming in his mind.

“Tim,” he says then, suddenly. “You're a genius!”

Tim's smirk says, _I know I am_ , but what he actually says is, “What?”

“My history assignment,” Kon explains, standing and crossing the room to snatch up his art book and turning to a fresh page. “We're supposed to write the names of people in our family on a family tree, but putting Clark and Lois seems… I don't know if they'd want me too. They've been so kind to me and– and I _know_ they want me here, but…”

“But?” Tim prompts.

“But I just. I don't think Clark would um, appreciate me calling him my _father_. He's not. He's different. And the way things have been going lately I. I just don't want to mess this up.”

Connor can't help but laugh at himself then, the sound without any mirth.

“He said the word 'father' once, but I'm not really sure he meant it like I should be calling him _Dad_ or something. He doesn't look at me like that, never has and never will. To Clark I'm just… I'm the 'clone' he never wanted. I'm the product of the violation of his rights. I can't see either him or Lois being anything but disgusted if I called them 'mom and dad,' y'know? And like I said, I don't want to mess this up. Everything has been so good between us all. I know they both care for me now, at least a little bit. I don't want to be the reason everything falls apart between us.”

Tim looks a bit distressed about that and his face falls a little as he begins, “Kon…” but then trails off sadly with nowhere to go.

“It's fine,” Connor says dismissively, flapping a hand at Tim before selecting one of the charcoal pencils and returning to his place at the other boy's side.

“But I don't _have_ to write their names,” he says, already sketching the outline of Lois' face―a face he's sketched over a hundred times since he started living with the pair. “I can just draw them.”

Tim opens his mouth a couple of times and then subsequently closes it before, “Don't take this the wrong way, but how is that different from just writing their names?”

Kon can't explain it.

“It. It just is.” Is what he settles with, changing the shape of Lois' face slightly so that it resembles her slightly less―he's had too much practice drawing her and it feels strange to think someone else will see his drawings of the woman. He's okay with this.

Tim looks skeptical, but doesn't comment further, for which Connor is thankful. Really, he can't explain it, but somehow this is better. _Easier._

Kon finishes up late into the evening, after Tim's gone home to Gotham.

He draws Lois and then Martha and Jonathan Kent and then himself. Then, when he can put it off no longer, he draws Clark.

The sketch of Clark is abysmal. It looks nothing like the man, but Kon supposes it's probably better that way. It's a flat drawing. But Clark has always been so… three dimensional. An impossible puzzle that Connor's sure he'll likely never understand. Kon's never drawn Clark before, and if he was going to psycho-analyze that he'd probably deduce that the fear he has of creating anything Clark-shaped probably stems from the memory of seeing his plasticine Superman smeared across the pristine floor of the Watchtower.

The shape of his face is all wrong and his lips are too big and his eyes too small, but Kon doesn't erase anything. The less it looks like Clark, the better.

By the time Connor finishes drawing all the faces and then sticking them onto his history assignment it is quite late into the evening. Tired, but satisfied, he haphazardly shoves the assignment in his backpack and then moves to change into pyjamas, switch off his light and crawl into bed.

He'll turn in his history assignment tomorrow and Mrs. McGavin won't fail him and Clark and Lois will never need know about it and Connor will move on with his life.

~

The morning starts with Connor oversleeping―soundly through his alarm. It's Lois who has to come and wake him up.

Clark is already sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee in one hand, perusing a paper over the rim of his glasses by the time Kon stumbles in with one unlaced shoe on and the other still in his hand, throwing his unzipped bag over his shoulder as he moves to grab a slice of bread to shove in the toaster.

The movement shifts the contents of his clearly overstuffed bag and he curses quietly but creatively under his breath when several books fall to the floor and scatter everywhere.

“Language,” Clark chastises softly, without any real reprimand in his voice and a kindly smile on his face as he slides out of his chair and bends onto his knees, helping Connor clean up all his books and fallen stationery.

“I guess I should use my locker more often,” Connor smiles apologetically, retrieving his math book from beneath Clark's now-empty chair.

“It might be useful,” Clark nods with a hint of amusement, ruffling Kon's hair with one hand and holding out his English textbook with the other. “Here. I think that was everything.”

Connor checks the stack of stuff and then frowns.

“My history book,” he says, glancing around for it. He needs that. His assignment is tucked between the pages inside. “I can't find it.”

Across the room Lois cries: “Found it!” as she picks it up off the ground. To Kon's horror, his assignment cleanly slips out from between it's pages, floating lightly to the floor.

Connor most certainly does _not_ let out an undignified squeak of terror as he dives for the family tree. However, it doesn't matter that he's off like a rocket as he desperately reaches for his work before anybody else can see, Lois is already half-bent, her fingertips curling around the page as she retrieves it.

The blood in Kon's veins turn to ice.

Lois is staring at the page, her eyes flicking between the drawings on it with a little frown furrowing her brow.

The ringing in his ears almost drowns out the sound of her question.

“What's this, Kon?” she asks too softly, her voice so gentle that it hurts. Her eyes flick up towards him when he pauses for just a moment too long.

Connor swallows, and it's like downing dry pills.

“It's―it's nothing,” he croaks back, reaching for it again. “Just an assignment for history, that's all.”

Lois' eyes drop back to the page, this time reading aloud the very top of the page where he knows the words _'_ _Family Tree_ _'_ are printed in bold comic sans.

Clark steps past him then and Connor suddenly feels as though his whole body is wading through sand, every limb heavy and weighted.

“Is this us?” Clark asks, pointing at something on the page as he stands behind Lois, staring at Connor's drawings from over her shoulder.

It comes without warning then, the flood. The pressure building up behind Kon's eyes suddenly too much for the dam to contain, cracks forming in his concrete and iron will.

The first tears that spill are hot on his cheeks, flushed with horror and the mortification of Clark and Lois seeing something he had never intended nor wanted for them to see.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles through his tears, coupled with a hitch in his voice that makes them both look up in surprise, further shaming him. “I just… I didn't know who else I could…”

Kon has an overwhelming desire to snatch the assignment out of Lois' hands and tear it up into shreds, Mrs. McGavin's history class be damned, but he doesn't. Both Lois and Clark's faces are filled with surprise and alarm. They're obviously shocked by the sudden outburst of emotion.

“Connor, honey,” says Lois with only the slightest quaver in her voice as she hands the assignment to Clark who spends a moment more studying it. “What's the matter?”

Kon scrubs at his eyes furiously, but it does nothing to quell their flow. “You… you were never meant to see that, but I had to hand _something_ in. I didn't mean to upset anyone, I'm sorry.” The memory of Clark yelling at him over his Superman model rises to the surface once more, unbidden, more tears welling up over it.

Lois is before him then, having moved without him noticing, coming to stand right in front of him. Her hands grip his shoulders gently as she hushes him, then says, “Kon, sweetheart, I need you to slow down, you're not making any sense. Please, I don't understand what the tears are about.” Her thumbs are rubbing circular motions over the tops of his arms.

Clark still hasn't said anything, but there's a full frown on his face now, his gaze alternating between Connor and the history assignment still in his hands.

“I'm sorry,” is all Kon manages. “I'm sorry.”

Lois' steady façade breaks a little, something desperate slipping between the cracks. “Honey, what are you apologizing for?” she asks, then adds, “There's nothing to be sorry about.”

The words come out unchecked by his brain, pushing past his lips before he can think any better of them. “I've messed everything up,” he manages between sobs. “I know you're not… my mom and dad― _I was just going to turn in the assignment with just_ my _name on it too_ ―but Mrs. McGavin didn't like that. She was going to fail me if I didn't put _someone_ else down. You're both my family, but… but you're… you're not _mom and dad_. It seemed wrong to write your names in, so I drew you instead, but I guess that's not really that much better, huh? It just seemed easier at the time. I'm sorry.”

The room goes really quiet then. Still, silent. The first movement comes from Clark, setting down Connor's history assignment on the breakfast counter. He moves with a surety that Kon is sure he'll never possess, striding over in two motions.

In one large scoop, he gathers Lois and Kon into his arms, the latter emitting a small squeak of surprise. The embrace is tight, but not crushing. Somebody―though Kon can't tell if it's Lois or Clark given the awkward position he's stuck in―drops a lingering kiss to the crown of his head.

“Kon,” Clark says, the rumble of his chest vibrating through Connor's whole being. “ _I'm_ sorry we made you feel like this. We never really talked about this with you, did we? We both just sort of _expected_ you to know how much you mean to us, what you _are_ to the both of us.”

Lois is murmuring her agreement then. She says, “You don't know this, but I call you my son all the time.”

For a minute, maybe out of surprise alone, the flowing rivulets of tears halt a moment. “What?” He whispers, almost daring himself to believe her words. “You… you've really said that?”

He feels her nodding against his hair.

“There's a picture of you,” she goes on. “On my desk at work. People still comment on it even now. I always laugh when they mention how much you look like Clark.”

“And on my desk,” Clark goes on, interrupting before Connor can reorganize his thoughts. “There's a photograph of the three of us―the one that Tim took for us that day we all went to the art museum.”

Kon remembers that day. A school holiday weekend had rolled around and he had invited Tim over to see a new release blockbuster, but when the two of them had showed at the theatre, Superman was there, arresting Dr. Freeze who had turned most of down-town Metropolis into a giant ice-cube. Despite Connor repeatedly reassuring him that it wasn't his fault, Clark had still been overly-apologetic as he'd accompanied them home. When they'd all arrived back, Lois had rescued the day by suggesting that they do something else and Tim had suggested the art museum because Connor had never been.

“I didn't even know that you had that picture,” Kon sniffs, blinking back the remaining tears.

“Pride of place on my desk,” Clark says, and Kon can _hear_ the smile in his voice.

“It doesn't matter to us what you call us,” Lois says and, this time, Connor knows it's _her_ lips pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Lois and Clark, Mom and Dad; whatever you're comfortable with, sweetheart.”

Kon has to take a moment to work through the surprise, and then, “You'd be okay with me calling you 'Mom' and 'Dad'?”

Clark's arms tighten around him for a moment, giving a reassuring squeeze. “We'd be honored.”

It takes a long minute for that to sink in.

“But I'm… I'm not,” he chokes out, stumbling over the words. “I shouldn't.”

“Kon, to me, you've been my son since new years day when you agreed to be a part of this family.”

“I have?”

“You have.” Lois agrees.

“And you don't mind?”

“The opposite,” Clark assures. “I'm thrilled.”

There's a pause and then Kon admits, “I'm not sure I'm… _ready_ to call you that.”

“That's alright,” Lois says, reaching up to stroke the back of his head. “Even if you're never ready, that's alright too.”

But there's a tiny fire in Kon that hopes that _one day_ he'll be brave enough to claim these people as his own as they have done for him.

“You will _always_ have a place in this family, no matter what you choose to call us,” Clark murmurs, nothing but sincerity and truth in his voice. “We really do love you, Kon.”

Connor's reply is so quiet that, had Lois and Clark not been only inches away, Kon is sure they might not have heard.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
